


Of Fate and Sleep

by I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning



Series: In Nauseating Variety: Theed Generator [6]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Deathfic, Gen, Gentle Ending, They're Reunited at the End
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-14
Updated: 2018-11-14
Packaged: 2019-08-23 14:29:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16620794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning/pseuds/I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning
Summary: A gentle Naboo deathfic, where Qui-Gon makes sure Obi-Wan feels loved as the padawan slips away.





	Of Fate and Sleep

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt sent to me on tumblr: Hey it’s Disco_Potato from AO3! Heres my terrible prompt lol. How about during the duel of the fates instead of Qui gon dying Obi is the one trapped with Darth Stupid Maul and gets stabbed then force choked then thrown arcoss the room into a wall. Unable to see if Obi was alive or not Qui gon kills Maul (or so he thinks..) rushes to find Obi wan before cradling his son in bis arms as he passes? Could you also do a bit at the end where Obi-wan welcomes Qui gon into the force plz?

 

Obi-Wan had been so focused, so intent, and falling so far had knocked the wind from Qui-Gon's lungs, so when he tried to call to him, Obi-Wan could not hear.

Trapped now, Qui-Gon watched, counting the seconds the ray shield kept him from his apprentice, from—

Obi-Wan missed the parry. Oh,  _ gods, he _ —

Not a sound escaped Qui-Gon as crimson burrowed into Obi-Wan's abdomen. The silence allowed him to hear the soft noise, a wretched breath, from his apprentice.

Blue eyes were so wide, face twisted with self-reproach, with  _ knowledge,  _ he knew  _ exactly  _ what he'd missed—

They'd been drilling on that specific weakness for months—

The blade disappeared and the fingers around the hilt expanded, then clenched the air beside the staff.

Obi-Wan's toes left the floor, then kicked out, a jerked flail, trying to find purchase again as his teeth clacked together and his saber dropped with a sad metallic ring.

The Sith's hand flung out and Obi-Wan's body was tossed beyond Qui-Gon's sight, and a sick crunch made Qui-Gon's soul cringe as Obi-Wan's awareness blinked out.

He could be dead, or he could be unconscious, Qui-Gon could not tell either way. Not yet.

The Sith looked Qui-Gon in the eye and smirked, so pleased with himself.

 

* * *

 

Obi-Wan's eyes were open, though hearing a saber hissing and spitting against another blade of light was what came to him first. He blinked his eyes, but still could see nothing.

Pain came next, deep and terrible. He could feel it, all the way through, the way the overheated tissue was  _ still burning,  _ even without flame. Few things in the universe hurt as much as a burn, and this one cut all the way through him.

There was also the sensation of air moving within the wound, within his body, in a place that should be protected. He swallowed the desire to whimper. He was a Jedi, he was dying, he wanted to be brave.

He'd already shamed himself enough, here at the end, missing the moment he'd been training for, so many repetitions, burning muscle and stinging sweat—

Between one second and the next he became aware of a broken bone— his shin, left side. The pain soared, so terrible, so bleak, it blocked out the mortal wound.

He felt his face pull into a frown.

He was dying, but the broken  _ leg  _ hurt so much it quieted the other to a muted ache?

Shapes began to form before his eyes, but no matter how much he blinked, it all remained gray. His master's robes, the creature falling, torn in two, down the shaft, Qui-Gon's blade...

His master ran for him, dropped to his knees, his hair... looked so soft...

Obi-Wan squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again, but color did not return.

He felt a little bereft, realizing it might not  _ come  _ back.

“I missed it,” he blurted, needing to say it, needing to let Qui-Gon know  _ he knew  _ where he'd failed. “The parry. I missed the parry. I missed it. I'm sorry. I swear, I practiced it. A hundred repetitions you said, I did them all, I don't want you to think I lied about it, I—”

He'd done the work, but he'd missed it anyway.

His teeth felt funny. Tingling. Like he'd had a mouthful of water that was too cold.

“I know, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon soothed, drawing him into his arms. The shin fell silent for a moment, and Obi-Wan felt a pulse of desperate gratitude, though it left the hole in him screaming at him, but then they were still again, and the new angle of his leg made it return to prominence with a roar, gagging and hushing the wound that actually mattered.

“You always do what I ask of you,” Qui-Gon continued, his voice sounding thick.

_ He's not trying to save me,  _ Obi-Wan realized.  _ He can see the death on me. Perhaps even smell it. _

The Living Force pulling back, pulling away, giving him up.

That thought wasn't so bad; the Living Force had never been particularly friendly to Obi-Wan anyway, and the Cosmic Force that had accompanied him every step of his life, was stepping in, building, drawing him, wooing him.

The Cosmic Force, the Force that spun galaxies and was past and future, the not yet born, and the dead, always the dead—

“I missed the parry,” Obi-Wan mumbled.

It felt worse than losing a tournament.

Qui-Gon must be so ashamed—

A hand pressed to his cheek, and eyes that should be blue but were gray stared into his. “I'm not. I'm not ashamed of you, Obi-Wan. You fought well.”

“I missed the parry.” It was important. Even if he had to die for his mistake, he  _ did  _ know which mistake it was that he made. Qui-Gon didn't understand.

“I know,” Qui-Gon choked, and his hair was brushing Obi-Wan's skin. It felt like rain, but sliding sideways and without getting wet. “But you fought well.”

He was coddling him. Obi-Wan didn't want to be coddled. If he was old enough to die, he was old enough to—

“Listen to me. Listen, Obi-Wan. Do what I ask of you one more time.”

Obi-Wan closed his mouth, but it didn't feel fully closed somehow. Like he didn't have full control over his muscles. He was trembling, tiny shivers of muscle all through him, and he felt like the temperature had plummeted. It was awful.

“I'm not coddling you. I'm not lying. You fought well. I am proud of you.” Qui-Gon's arms shifted, and he sounded so sad, so sad and proud—

“It was a stupid mistake.” Obi-Wan felt his eyes burn with sudden tears. He hadn't been  _ lazy,  _ he'd put in the work, he'd worked  _ hard _ , but this  _ one damn  _ drill _ — _

There were lips against his forehead. A kiss. Did Qui-Gon just kiss him? Someone was turning the light out in here, it was fripping inconsiderate, he blinked his eyes hard, trying to see clearly, but just the outline of Qui-Gon's face was visible in the murk, no details.

Maybe that was good. That way Qui-Gon wouldn't have to see  _ him  _ clearly either.

“I love you,” Qui-Gon murmured. “My apprentice. My imp. My Obi-Wan. My son.”

Oh. That was a nice thing to hear at the end. That you had been loved.

Obi-Wan tried to open his mouth to speak, but his lips didn't move. He blinked again, tried to move his tongue—

“It's alright, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon soothed. The Force whispered, with Qui-Gon's touch behind it, cutting off the signals Obi-Wan was receiving from his body.

He sagged with relief, gods, it was nice to have the pain ease, the pain of leg and... the other one...

He didn't have legs or stomach, as far as his brain was concerned, nothing below his shoulders.

He was moved again, but this time it didn't hurt. His ear pressed against something warm, soft, with something solid beneath—

Quiet thumps that he could hear, a beat patting against the shell of his ear.

Obi-Wan recognized this.

A way of offering a dying Jedi comfort was to allow them to feel another's heartbeat. Steadying, an anchor point, something to focus on and relax against.

It felt like Obi-Wan needed to swallow, but he couldn't remember how.

He could feel Qui-Gon's hair, and there was rough cloth in his fist, had he grabbed Qui-Gon's tunic? Was he clutching at it? He squinted in that direction, saw only a dim outline of a shoulder.

Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump.

_ This  _ is _ nice. I should let them know. They would like to know. Data point. Research. I should... let them... _

“It's alright to fall asleep, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon said. There was something with his voice, something...

So sad...

_ I didn't mean to make you so sad. _

And you didn't sleep when something interesting was happening. When there were people over to see you, to see...

Thoughts slowed, one word for each tap of heartbeat against Obi-Wan's ear.

He felt the urge to yawn, but his mouth still wouldn't move.

He was  _ very  _ tired. If Qui-Gon didn't mind...

_ I won't wake up. I'm going to die. This is what it is to die. _

It wasn't... so bad...

_ Thank you, Master. _

Master. The word that meant so much....

The Cosmic Force surged to meet Obi-Wan, cold waters over his fingers...

_ Alright, then. _

_ Let's try out this forever sleep. _

 

* * *

 

He was beautiful, where he lay on the unlit pyre.

Qui-Gon rested a hand on the still chest, staring down at the pale, slack face.

He knew the coroners hadn't played as many tricks with this corpse as they often had to with others. Obi-Wan's eyes had already closed. His expression already looked calm and vaguely curious.

_ My imp, always so curious. _

Curious this time about death.

Qui-Gon reached out to the Cosmic Force, but it wasn't easy for him to touch, it never had been. It was there, of course, but Qui-Gon's strength had always been the now.

Qui-Gon lifted one cold hand and pressed a kiss to the scraped knuckles.

_Thank you for walking the path with me as long as you did._ _I wish we'd had more time._

Qui-Gon knew he had to step back, had to let go of the empty house that Obi-Wan had already abandoned, and would not return to.

_ Strange, how the living cling to broken pottery the dead have already discarded. _

Qui-Gon brushed his fingers lightly down the long braid with its special binding threads. Yellow, blue...

An urge seized him, and he wrapped the braid around his hand, and severed it with his saber.

_ Sleep well, my knight. _

_ Goodbye. _

He stepped back, allowed fire to claim the last place he'd seen Obi-Wan, and felt the tears scalding down his cheek, nearly as burning as the tongues of flame.

 

* * *

 

He really,  _ really  _ was old to be fighting a war.

He tried to bind the wound, trying to still the flow of blood.

It was a lot.

Qui-Gon blinked hard, trying to clear his head of the buzzing and the ache. The sounds of battle raged around, but he couldn't seem to look up to search for any sign of the medic.

_ Staunch the bleeding. _

Except he'd been working on that a while now, and he couldn't seem to find his comlink, and....

And Anakin wasn't here. He was a planet over, with Ahsoka, overseeing the other half of the assault.

_ Well... kark. _

It dawned, a bit slow, the thought...

_ Could I...? _

_No._

This wasn't even that spectacular a battle. And there was no one here to see.

_ A bit pathetic, to die  _ here,  _ from  _ this.

A breathy groan escaped him, but that might have been from being so tired and unenthused. How had he ever allowed Anakin to convince him to step into this whole mess?

_ A  _ war,  _ Jinn, really? _

Except he couldn't see those brave soldiers who had no choice go out there  _ alone  _ to face down death.

It was a nasty hand that had been dealt this time. Life did that sometimes. You just... gave what you had, and watched to see where the pieces would land...

He closed his eyes, leaned his head against the ship wing that was stabbed in the ground, propping him up. The metal was burning, even through the layer of his hair, overheated by the sun and glaring the light so bright it hurt his eyes.

_ “Master.” _

_ Either I'm hallucinating, or you're here to get me. _

_“You need not fear the Cosmic Force, Master.”_

_How can I fear it? You lived and breathed it, like a ghost in a body. Listening to echoes of the long dead, and the not yet born. A poetry burning in your soul..._

Soft laughter greeted his ears.  _ “You didn't much like it. It unnerved you.” _

_ Perhaps. But I loved  _ you.

_ “So trust me now. It's time.” _

_I really rather think it isn't...._

He could open his eyes again if he tried. He just didn't see the point, just as yet.

_ “Master.” _

The Living Force, his continuous companion, was fading from his awareness. It was harder to sense the nearby clones. The bond with Anakin felt dim. The moment seemed weirdly elongated, twisted and mute.

_ “All things die, Master. The Cosmic Force is foreign to you, but I promise you, you are welcome.” _

_I love the Living, Padawan. I do not wish to leave._

_ “Few do.”  _ A familiar hand drifted into his field of vision, extended, offering.

_ My eyes are closed,  _ he thought, just a bit grumpily.

Did death have to be quite so rude?

But the weariness seemed to have sunk into his bones, and holding the tourniquet took so much more effort.

_ My men will blame themselves. And Anakin.... _

But Obi-Wan's hand remained, and the Force beckoned, and he could feel the life within him shifting, preparing, ending.

_ Time for what's next. _

Maybe he  _ was  _ hallucinating, and next would be sleep.

Or maybe he would walk the fields of the Force hand-in-hand with Obi-Wan.

Qui-Gon found it maybe didn't matter which. After all, sleep was a gentle thing, not something for the weary to fear.

Obi-Wan's hand caressed his weathered cheek.

“It's alright to fall asleep,” Obi-Wan murmured, and Qui-Gon felt himself smile just a little, recognizing the words.

So when the hand extended again, he took it.

He never once regretted that decision.

 

 


End file.
